YinYang: Theory of Relativity
by Bugnuks And Crossbows
Summary: They are on two opposite ends of the same scale, two extremes on the same line, and they're about to get a whole lot closer. Ch.4
1. Introduction

**Yin – Yang:  
****Theory of Relativity

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**

**Authoress Notes: Hey everyone. I only have three short notes before this starts:**

**1 This is my first Yu-Gi-Oh fanfiction. It's still my OTP… but not my usual place to write. However, I have been writing fanfiction for nearly six years, in the same style, with very little variety in the writing style. This is my introduction to the Yu-Gi-Oh fanfiction scene. **

2 To anyone watching me as an authoress from Weiss fanfiction, I am putting all Weiss fanfics on hiatus until I get rid of this Yu-Gi-Oh kick… I will be back eventually to my loves.

**3 This story is going to be somewhat short, the characters are purposely going to be somewhat OOC. You'll understand when we hit the first chapter.

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**

_**Introduction

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**_

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"By the Gods! Can't you do anything right?" a booming voice cut through the afternoon's idle noises. Jumping and quickly fleeing into the well-lit hallway, Ryou stared at his yami in utter horror.

The task was simple: Clean the house. A customary Thursday afternoon chore made all the more complicated once a month. The last Thursday of every month, Bakura's bedroom was added to the list of rooms to clean. He had thought it was going well enough, until Bakura came to check on him.

As it was Bakura was always edgy when Ryou was in his room – it could be him merely standing at the door, or sitting at his bedside, and he would be on guard. Bakura's room was his sanctuary and the one place that he hated to have Ryou's scent in.

Ryou felt vastly different about the room. He enjoyed what little time he spent in the room. It was the one place in which he felt in sync with his darker half; it was the room that resonated with Bakura's dark aura, smelled of his musk and read of his emotions.

Nevertheless, he respected the room, and avoided changing too much about it while cleaning. Bakura tended to be the bigger reason for that. Cringing a little, he watched Bakura's anger ridden face, and waited.

"If you insist on cleaning the room," Bakura growled, "learn where things go. Stilettos on top, knives on the bottom, no exceptions!"

And Bakura's knives, often found laying around the bedroom floor, were not to be trifled with. He never could remember each position though.

Turning his back to Ryou, Bakura took a brief moment to check that there weren't any other things that needed to be dealt with before grabbing Ryou roughly by the wrist and yanking him to the bathroom. As soon as the direction became apparent, the tears started,

"Please, Yami-sama! Please! I didn't mean to! I'll try not to forget again, I'll do better n-next time!" Ryou whimpered, tugging lightly at his wrist in protest. Bakura only yanked harder.

It took a great heave to get Ryou into the bathroom, but once there, the door was locked and Bakura pointed to the shower cubical. Ryou silenced his protests as Bakura removed scissors from the first-aid kit, and he finally pulled off his shirt.

Bakura turned back to his lighter half, watching as he quietly entered the cubical.

It was custom. Horrible, painful, destructive custom, and it would be no different today. He pressed his forehead against the tiles despairingly, flinching at the soft _pcht_ noise of Bakura's bare feet on tile. He closed his eyes tightly, waiting as the cold metal of the scissors bit into his heavily scarred back.

"Hold still," Bakura's voice leaked amusemen at the tremble his hikari gave. "If you move, I might cut too deep."

It was always the same. Sometimes he sounded less concerned about his hikari's well-being, others he wouldn't sound remorseful at all, but the warning was always the same. The tradition was always upheld.

Slice, hiss…

Never the chest –

Slice, hiss…

- Never the stomach –

Slice, cry…

- Never the legs –

Slice, shriek…

- And never, _ever_ the face.

A warm, wet tongue moved along his back, lapping at warm streams of blood. It was almost a lover's touch; he imaged it was sometimes, but ritualistically that touch came to a close, and four more lines were carved into his back.

Tears swam in his eyes, but didn't fall. Bakura was in a good mood, taking only a minimal pleasure in his pain today, and the pain wasn't enough for him to bed an end to.

The tongue came again, warm and sensual on his back, loving every metallic bead on his skin. Every drop of Ryou's lineage, every poet and politician whose genes made up the existing boy, was treated with utmost delicacy, before the scissors came again.

The process was long, thorough and simple, stopping the moment Ryou's world began to spin. Then came the tender period. Bakura rinsed his back, bandaged it, and finally disappeared to enjoy his blood induced high.

Was Bakura a monster? Perhaps, but only in the way of a vampire. He could be cruel – ruthless – but he wasn't stupid. If his prey lost too much blood, there could be no blood in the next week.

Also similar to a vampire, Bakura had that sensual, dark, sexy allure, walking silently through the dark with a graceful swagger, every movement a reflection of his power, his security, and that hint of something deeper that no being could touch.

Sighing, Ryou lay on his side in bed. The power, the grace, the beauty that no man should possess, they were things he wished he could have. The beauty that blossomed from self-confidence, the strength to prevent the reoccurring scars, the grace that somehow added to the fantasy. If he had those things, would he be able to create a relationship with his darker half that even remotely resembled what Yuugi had with Yami?

With a sardonic laugh, Ryou tugged his covers up. The fantasy itself was lovely, but Bakura would never bare a semblance to Yami. Yami was noble, a white knight, and Bakura was the black knight – no, not a knight. They were law and chaos, and _never_ would one resemble the other.

He played out a short tea-party fantasy in his mind as he eased into sleep, trying to ignore the burning sensation on his back.

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End Intro


	2. Chapter One

**Yin – Yang:**

**Theory of Relativity  
**

_Authoress Notes:_ _Something I forgot to mention in the first chapter - I am about the least consistant writer you will meet. Unless there appears to be a real love for the story, chances of my stopping in the middle are high. Also, I have no internet at home, and very little access to it, so if I'm slow to update (Like a month...) then I appologise in advance. It happens. I have a life, and no internet._**  
**

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**Chapter One**

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**

The margins of his notes were adorned with doodles this afternoon. The assignment was finished, and the bell was soon to go, but the class took no notice. To one side of the room a large group was pestering a classmate for answers, and to the other a group was studying and discussing a novel.

A hand shot into the air, and was yanked down with a burst of laughter, before a single student approached the teacher's desk.

"Sensei?"

"Yes?" the teacher glanced up from his marking at the girl.

"What's the theory of relativity?"

"That's a good question," smiling, the teacher stood and approached the whiteboard.

The class slowly quieted as the teacher began to write. "The theory of relativity states that for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction," he stated, writing it on the board. "For instance, if you stay out past your curfew, you'll have fun longer, but your parents will likely get angry. At the same time, if you do your homework on time, you may have been bored shortly, but in the end it could mean the difference between you getting a pass or fail…"

Ryou pondered this concept a little. The bell rang, and he stood and left to join his friends in front of the school for lunch.

It occurred to him then that the theory had to have some basis of truth, and that day to day he lived with the reactions caused by his actions. Many of those reactions were scars burned deeply into his back.

Perching on a wall beside Anzu, he pulled out a sandwich and continued mulling the thought a bit. _If you throw a small rock, you make small waves,_ he thought, _much like my protests to Yami-sama. So, if I threw a large rock, would I be utterly washed away as punishment, or will things change?_

"Bakura-kun?"

Looking up, he noticed all eyes were intently on him, and he blinked, "yes?"

Yuugi walked a bit closer, tilting his head at Ryou. "A large rock, Bakura-kun?"

He nodded absently. "A large rock. A very large rock."

* * *

"Where've you been?" Bakura grouched from the living room, hearing the door close. There was a short thumping noise as Ryou tossed his bag aside, and emerged in the living room, leaning in the doorway. Looking up, Bakura opened his mouth to say something, and instead choked on something, gaping a bit. 

"No? Don't like it?" Ryou asked, as casually as he could. He was trying to convince himself that he wasn't afraid. Ra, if he was punished for this one, he'd totally understand – but this was only the start of a growing wave.

"Y-your hair!" Bakura stood. Yes, his hair. He didn't have the guts to change the colour, and no hairdresser in all of Japan would _let_ him; however, it now sat as his chin, with a wisp or two reaching his shoulders.

"Like it? Decided I needed an upgrade." Ryou shrugged, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt.

With a strange breathing pattern, Bakura approached. "Your clothes…?" was next. Sure enough, he had taken advice from both Yami and Malik, and took only the portions that suited him.

"Mm, Malik-kun says they're sexy," Ryou held his head high, but not high enough to meet Bakura's eye.

Nevertheless he could feel the eyes roaming his flawless alabaster stomach, analyzing the close fitting black crop top, and ever so hungrily eyeing the net top that broke one's concentration on skin. Black gloves with short belts at the end weaved through his fingers and a deep purple trench coat brushed at the bottom of casual black dress pants. The philosophy behind this was to take after chaos's personae. Look the part before you play it.

And he could see the look generally pleased his Yami, until Bakura examined his face. The dark emitted a low growl and his nose wrinkled into a short snarl.

"Take that disgusting crap off your face," he spit out, referring to the dark liner adorning Ryou's eyes. "People will start thinking you're some Goth or something."

Ryou watched as his darker half disappeared and felt a small swelling in his chest. A small smile lit his features, and he made a chipper humming noise as he disappeared into the bathroom, cleaning the make-up from his eyes. He could feel a strange glowing feeling in his stomach as he walked to his room.

Perching on the edge of his bed, Ryou examined himself, loosely, with a smile. Now he looked the part – next was to learn his lines.

* * *

Bakura sat in his room, staring at the knives decorating his walls. There was a strange feeling in his gut, a twisting, wriggling feeling. In fact… it felt almost warm and fuzzy. Disturbed? Yes. Content? Yes. Suspicious? Oh hell yeah. 

There was only one explanation for these strange feelings – Ryou. His hikari's sudden new clothes, the show of fragile strength; it was unexpected, uncomfortable, and completely acceptable. He felt something akin to pride in his light, which he quickly squashed with a grumble.

"Bloody light and his bloody ideas," he muttered, grabbing a pillow.

Something inside him wanted very strongly to punish Ryou for his sudden display of independence, but nothing in him wanted Ryou's pain right this second.

An irate hiss escaped him and he stood, heading to Ryou's room. Knocking only briefly, he stepped into the room, watching Ryou's gaze flick casually in his direction. He was steady until a knife glinted from Bakura's hand. He flinched lightly, but being that this wasn't the bathroom, he knew it wouldn't be the same as Thursday night.

Bakura grabbed a glass from Ryou's desk, and pulled it closer, putting out a hand. "Your wrist," he grumbled, and Ryou bit his lip. "Don't trifle with me, hikari," Bakura inched closer. Ryou hesitated for a moment longer – just long enough to irritate Bakura, and his hand shot out to grab Ryou's hand, yanking the sleeve back and baring the Briton's wrist.

He cut a careful, but deep line across the wrist, watching hungrily as the crimson liquid trickled thickly into the glass until it had filled, needing to press the knife deeper to extract enough blood.

Ryou had turned his head away, refusing to watch. His stomach twisted in disgust and a return in full flare of his previously suppressed fear. He felt Bakura hurriedly wrapping his wrist, and glanced over his shoulder, watching as Bakura sipped at the blood. He felt slightly more queasy.

Bakura, seeming to notice, turned and left to finish his drink elsewhere, as Ryou returned to staring out the window, lightly fingering the cloth that made his wrist injury inaccessible to his seeking fingers.

It was out of the blue, and nearly painless, and there had been no yelling involved. It was an observation Ryou made with utmost pleasure, straightening the sleeve over the reddening bandage and laying on his bed.

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_End Chapter _


	3. Chapter Two

**Yin - Yang:**

**Theory of Relativity**

_Authoress Notes: So... bit short... as a thought, this is probably all gonna go pretty fast, as it's an intricate plot that I'm trying to fit into about seven or eight chapters. If it's longer than that... this story will _**not**_ last. Unfortunately the same thing goes with chapters that are too long. So... I hope you guys don't mind that they're only three to six pages. If you do have questions, you can review them, and I'll try and cover it in the next chapter, or simply send you a message to explain. Thanks for reading guys._

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Chapter Two

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Brown eyes peered hesitantly through the window. "You sure about this?"

Malik glanced in his direction. "You wanna change it up, right?"

"Well… yeah," Ryou hesitated still, looking through the window.

"Then I'm sure about this. Besides," the Egyptian shrugged, "I could never find someone to come here with me before."

The pair stood in front of the Domino city kickboxing arena. And Ryou was terrified. He wasn't sure how Malik convinced him to do this, but he soon found himself changed, and warming up. Malik and he chatted lightly about school, their darker halves and Ryou's plan as the warm-ups came to a close, and shortly even that ended.

The course was aimed toward beginners, and thus the first class was relatively basic. These are the kicks, these are the punches, and these are the rules. Play nicely.

Nevertheless, the pair were relatively worn out by the time they finished, and headed out for something to eat to continue discussing the plan – after other matters were settled.

"I didn't realize I was so out of shape," Malik muttered, taking a seat with the least healthy hotdog Ryou had ever seen.

"I guess… slim doesn't mean fit," Ryou shrugged, taking a seat beside him.

Malik pouted. "But I'm not just slim! Look'it my muscles," he raised his shirt a little.

Again, Ryou shrugged. "I dunno, Malik-kun, maybe it's because it's a completely different set of muscles."

Taking a big bite of his hotdog, Malik nodded. "That must be it."

* * *

With a new wardrobe, and kickboxing lessons started, Ryou began a single-minded quest for grace. Yuugi sat on the counter, taking notes as Ryou walked across the room. When Ryou's eyes turned expectantly towards them, Yuugi handed his list to Yami.

"It's not that you aren't graceful," Yami said, taking the list, "you're just… not gliding."

"So…?" Ryou perched in a chair. "What am I doing wrong? How can I fix it?"

"You lean too heavily on your right leg," Yuugi said, gesturing. "If you can balance it out more…"

"And you slouch a little when you walk," Yami included, "so your posture is off."

Ryou listened intently until a grumble came to his mind. //Oi, light, are you making dinner or what?//

Sighing, Ryou stood, and Yami cut off what he was talking about for a game plan. //I'll be home in a minute.// "Sorry guys," Ryou shook his head, "Yami-sama's getting grouchy."

Yuugi smiled, hopping off the counter to give Ryou his list. "I'm sure you'll get this all down, Bakura-kun. Good luck."

With a smile to Yuugi, and an amused noise at Yami staring at his hand, where Yuugi's list used to be, Ryou left, and began the trek home.

Reading over Yuugi's list, Ryou made notes to himself about how to correct them. He put the list away and began to concentrate on his walking, longer steps with his left, no slouching, longer steps with his left, no slouching. The mantra continued all the way home.

* * *

Bakura sat irritably at the kitchen table, watching Ryou flit around the kitchen, making dinner. Steak was delicately spiced, and placed in the oven as he watched. Ryou steamed mini-carrots and broccoli, while the scent of cooking steak slowly filled the room. 

"So, why are you annoyed anyway?" Ryou asked, leaning against the counter.

"They pillaged another tomb in the Valley of the Kings," Bakura grumbled.

"And this bothers you because…?" Ryou raised an eyebrow.

"…There's gold in it."

"And…?"

"Do I have to spell everything out to you?" Bakura snapped.

Ryou just shook his head. "No, no… I just wanted you to admit that modern archeologists outdid you."

Bakura let out a short snarl, and Ryou knew the topic wasn't to be discussed further. Turning back to check on the steaks, Ryou pulled a couple plates out to put food on, and set them on the table. He grabbed himself a fork and knife, and only a fork for Bakura.

A disgruntled noise emerged from the yami at not receiving a knife as well, but he stabbed the steak and bit into it, as Ryou delicately took a bite of his broccoli. They ate mostly in silence, if you ignored Bakura's loud, somewhat messy eating habits, and Ryou stood to clean up the dishes and mess Bakura had left on the table.

"You smell like the nutcase," Bakura observed.

"The nutcase has a name," Ryou stated, soaping up the dishes.

"Whatever. Why were you with him?" Bakura perched on the counter.

Ryou glanced up momentarily, and then returned to the dishes. "Because I wanted to spend time with him."

"With that psycho?!"

_Yeah, I know,_ Ryou thought sourly, _When I have one at home, why run off with another one?_ It took him a moment to realize he'd thought that. And another three to acknowledge that yes, yes he'd really thought it all on his own.

"Why not? …It's not like I'm not used to them," Ryou continued with his dishes, welling up a bit with pride in himself. Bakura cocked his head at him, before frowning, understanding his undertones.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Turning to face Bakura straight on, Ryou frowned. "I think you know exactly what that's supposed to mean."

And without another word, Ryou turned and stalked to his room, leaving a somewhat baffled Bakura watching after him. Bakura heard Ryou's door slam, and a crashing noise from the other's room. He wasn't sure what to do, as his other half slowly turned back against him. It all seemed wrong; it wasn't in Ryou's nature to act out.

Something fishy was really going on, and he had this nagging notion that the Ishtars had something to do with this.

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_End _


	4. Chapter Three

**Yin-Yang:  
Theory of Relativity**

_Authoress Notes: Sorry this was so long coming, guys... things kinda caught up with me, so... at long last, here's chapter three._**  
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**Chapter Three**

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Something was wrong. _Very_ wrong. You know things are wrong when Bakura, in all his spiky haired glory, shows up on your door in the rain, in tears. Malik stared at the white haired man on his front step as the man cried. 

"M-Malik... I... I need your help..." Bakura sobbed, glancing through his sopping wet bangs.

"Uh... come... come in," Malik stepped aside, holding the door open.

Grabbing the aggrieved man a towel as he sat on the couch, the Egyptian sighed somewhat. "What's going on, Bakura?" Malik frowned.

"Wh-what did you do to Ryou?" Bakura whispered, choking on a sob.

"Ryou?" Malik blinked. "I didn't do anything to your hika-"

"Don't you dare." There was a whisper of a threat in that, but a very weak one.

There was a moment of silence, broken by Malik's sigh as he scratched his head. "Fine, what happened?"

"...He killed a man."

"WHAT?!"

* * *

Irritation was prominent on his mind. Bakura was being annoyingly clingy, and sniveling, teachers were being stupid and petty, and now some idiot was trying to steal his wallet. 

"C'mon, pretty boy, hand it over," the smug faced man beckoned.

Ryou frowned. He had two options: blow the guy off and walk away, or beat his ass and teach him how thievery should work.

He soon found himself pressed against a brick wall by the same smug faced man. The man's hands traveled down Ryou's side, searching and feeling through his clothes for a wallet.

As the hands reached his waist, Ryou's expression grew sour, and he brought an elbow up to the man's face, causing him to stumble back in shock. As blood trickled from the man's nose, Ryou watched, something in his chest leaping to his throat, causing a bizarre, almost surreal sensation of hunger.

The man stared up at him in shock, as if he hadn't expected a violent reaction to his actions. With a growl, he stood again, his hands moving to Ryou's throat, only to be casually swept aside, as Ryou's hand moved for his gut.

Groaning, the man fell to his knees, and Ryou watched with contempt. Not waiting for the man to stand again, he kicked the side of the man's head, and watched him collapse to the ground.

Pulling out a switchblade, Ryou knelt beside the man, and rolled him onto his back. His expression carefully blank, he held the blade to the man's throat, moving his fingers to the blood trailing down the side of his face.

The dazed would-be thief watched, terrified, as Ryou licked the blood from his fingers. His mouth curling into a feral smile, Ryou slit the man's throat, and wiped the blood from the knife onto his grimy grey jacket.

Standing, he kicked at the body in disgust, and began to walk back to the entrance of the alley – where Bakura stood, watching in horror.

"What…. What the hell was that?" Bakura asked, eyes wide with alarm.

"That?" Ryou asked casually, glancing over his shoulder at the now deceased man. "That is what happens to stupid little thieves," he said casually, brushing past Bakura without so much as a glance at him, and heading home.

Bakura stood in the ally for what seemed like an eternity, his mind twisting hard around what he had just witnessed, and what Ryou had just said. As he stood there, the rain started, just a trickle at first, then into full on torrential pellets. The blood from the alley ran towards the drain, twisting around Bakura's boots on it's way.

Finally, he turned, and began to sprint towards the home of the cause of all this. There was something very wrong – he knew he himself had been acting strangely, and couldn't understand why. At first it was just a grudging admiration for his partner slowly growing balls, but then things changed. It was as if the very teeter-totter of life had switched sides, and Ryou had become the darker half. The tainted half.

* * *

Nursing a cup of tea between shivering hands, Bakura stared at the rug of Malik's living room. Malik paced, agitatedly as Marik watched, thoughtfully. 

"I don't see what the problem is," Marik stated, finally, after a period of silence. "If the kid finally learned how to protect himself, good for him. It's not any different than you would do, Bakura."

"And that is exactly the problem!" Malik turned on his darker half, frowning. "It's what Bakura would do. Ryou would never do as Bakura did; he's too sensitive for that. Life _matters_ to him, be it his own, or anyone else's!"

Running a hand through tousled locks, Malik sighed, frustrated, and turned his gaze to the ceiling. "It was supposed to be an experiment – a game! – no one was supposed to get hurt… He just… wanted you to respect him…"

Bakura looked up from the carpet to see Malik's purple eyes focused on him. "…But someone _did_ get hurt… your experiment failed…"

"Not exactly… He proved the theory of relativity correct… I mean, look at yourself, Bakura… you're a whining, simpering, meek little version of yourself. You're worse than Ryou was!" There was a pause as Bakura made an offended noise, and returned his gaze to his tea.

"But someone still got hurt. More than hurt… he's dead."

"I know. I realized that, thank you," Malik sighed. "Alright, lets think this out logically: the theory of relativity, which we followed, says that for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction, right? So… Bakura… Why don't you go out and do something horrible? Fix the cosmic balance... you know... that sort of thing."

"But won't it all just happen again, anyway?" Marik asked, raising an eyebrow at them both. They both blinked at him in return.

"Well, think about it – Ryou's now a crazy nutball because he wanted to be friends with Bakura, instead of having their whole slave and master thing going on; if Bakura returns to being his crazy nutball self, won't the kid just try again? The penny will flip, and we'll get into a constant cycle of Jekyll and Hyde."

"…How the hell do you know _anything_ about Jekyll and Hyde?" Malik asked, his voice carefully monotone.

"Contrary to popular belief, I read in my spare time," Marik grumbled, adjusting in his chair.

"Anyways… I hate to admit it, but you have a point."

"So, what do we do, then?" Bakura asked, leaning back in his chair and setting the tea aside.

"We need to somehow put you both at the same level… get you to act the same, or have the same sort of grasp on things."

"But then we'll just have…. Two Bakura's," Marik frowned.

"Or two Ryou's," Bakura added.

"Both of you shut it. You both have individual personalities one way or another, different concepts of right and wrong, usually… so we just… need to make things even. No more Yin and Yang, just… a circle of grey."

Both Bakura and Marik stared blankly at Malik. Malik stuck his tongue out at them both, and disappeared up the stairs to work on his plot.

"Your hikari is a weirdo," Bakura stated. Marik snorted.

* * *

_Chapter End_

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	5. Chapter Four

_  
_**Yin-Yang:**

**Theory of Relativity**

_First thing's first: I owe you all a big apology. The book I was reading which influenced this fanfiction was… misleading. The theory being used in this story isn't the Theory of Relativity (which is mostly about gravity) but Newton's Law of Motion. I don't have enough time or energy right now to go back and correct myself, but from here on out I will attempt to keep in mind the CORRECT_ _theory/law._

_

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**Chapter Four**

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The rain-streaked windows reminded Ryou of tears, and he took a few moments to indulge in the pleasure that brought him. The very heavens were grieving, now, and he felt no remorse whatsoever. This feeling of power was overwhelmingly pleasant, coursing through his veins, through his heart.

It was the most power he had had over himself since the Ring came into his possession, and he revelled in every second of it. As a door closed quietly downstairs, a twisted grin spilled across his face, and a sickly sweet tone tainted his voice.

"Oh Bakura, my sweet," he sang, causing the white-haired spirit downstairs to shudder, violently. "Where oh where do you think you've been all day? There's so much to be done here!"

Ryou stuck his head into the hallway in time to see Bakura's messy mane of hair disappear into the kitchen. Brown eyes narrowed considerably and the younger of the two scowled deeply. A familiar object made it's way into the boy's soft hand, and he slithered gracefully down the stairs, and into the kitchen.

Bakura slouched, trying to avoid Ryou's dark gaze, but failed. As Ryou approached, the spirit disappeared into the Ring, causing him to growl, and curse his cowardly other half. Both aloud, and directly to his other half, the more twisted of the pair called to Bakura.

"Come now, you craven little rat. It's acceptable for you to desecrate my body, but heaven forbid you, who can heal himself, be injured? If you don't get out here I will come to you, and I will tear your mind to pieces."

From inside the Ring, Bakura let out a soft sob. Of course Ryou was right, it was only right that he be punished in return for all the injury he inflicted on Ryou; at the same time, he didn't really want to be at his former light's mercy.

Ryou seemed bitterly pleased as Bakura slowly reshaped himself from the shadows. His hand wrapped more firmly around the dagger, as he reached to yank Bakura out of the dark by the collar of his shirt. He briefly considered doing to Bakura what Bakura had done to him, before a more desirable idea came to him.

He gave Bakura a once over, before dragging him up the stairs, silently. Bakura whimpered softly as he attempted to keep up, and stay behind all at once. When they reached the bathroom, Bakura visibly flinched, then blinked in confusion as Ryou continued past it, towards his bedroom.

"R-Ryou…?" he questioned weakly. The look Ryou gave him could have peeled the skin from his muscles, and he immediately looked to the ground, following him.

When they entered Ryou's bedroom, the boy locked the door, and before Bakura knew what had happened, Ryou had captured both his wrists, and driven the dagger through both of them, and into the floor below, with surprising strength.

Giving a barely suppressed cry of agony, Bakura began to struggle, managing to slice open both of his wrists even further in the process. Ryou's eyes pinned him to the floor with a strange intensity, and the spirit waited, fearful of what was to come.

The smaller of the two shifted, straddling Bakura's still clothed thighs, and began to slice open the front of his shirt, making the purpled eyed man flinch at the tearing sound.

"So many times… I swore this would happen," Ryou murmured, removing the shredded shirt. "So many times I thought, after 'tending' to my injuries… that you would be the one… to finally rape me."

Bakura watched, somewhat appalled, as a strange, sardonic sort of smile lit Ryou's lips. "Many wanted to… Ra, was it so hard to see? But you... I wasn't worthy of you, was I? The only one I wanted was you…" The knife suddenly moved down, slicing the button clean off of the jeans Bakura wore, with such prowess that the spirit's eyes were locked onto the still spinning button on the floor beside him.

"R-Ryou I…"

"Shut up," the boy snarled, shifting as he started to remove Bakura's jeans. "Shut up… I'm in control now, this time… it's about my pleasure, not yours."

"You're right," a voice came from the door, and Ryou's head snapped around, to see Marik, Malik and Yami standing in the doorway. Yami spoke again, "You're in charge, Ryou, you have all the power… but you've become everything you hate."

Malik stepped into the room, and Ryou crouched away. "What do you know of what I like, or hate?" he growled.

The Egyptian boy gave him a sad smile. "You wanted to be even with Bakura, didn't you?" he asked, softly, "This isn't even, anymore. You're worse than he was…you've killed people... and what was it you would have done to the man you loved, had we not intervened?" Malik shook his head.

Ryou stared around at the three of them, clutching the hilt of the knife tightly. This, however, put no fear into Yami and Marik, who quickly approached, and grabbed him, grunting at the knife impacts, but not faltering in their efficient tying.

"Ryou… this is for your own good," Marik grumbled, and carted the protesting white-haired boy to the stairs. Malik pulled the dagger from Bakura's wrists, about to speak, but Bakura disappeared rather quickly out the door, after Marik.

"R-Ryou - !" Marik paused, giving Bakura a strange look, while Ryou merely glared, seething in anger.

"Ryou… Y-you were right... but you were also wrong…" Bakura bit his lip, then looked away. "I wanted you, by the Gods I did… but that was something… I would never have taken away from you… not by force... because it wasn't that you were unworthy of me… but that I was unworthy… of you."

The anger seemed to fade from Ryou's face, and a lone tear made it's way down his cheek, before it started up in full force. Marik looked decidedly uncomfortable, as the current psychopath broke down completely in his arms, and he sighed.

"For crying out loud, I'm not a consoling sort of person…" he grumbled, then looked up as Bakura began to descend the stairs.

Malik caught Bakura's arm, and shook his head. "We're taking him away for a little bit, Bakura…Yami and Yuugi will stick with you, because… the two of you are gonna undergo a lot of mood swings, I imagine."

Bakura frowned, about to protest, but Yami shook his head as well. "You're best off if you let us handle this."

"Yeah," Ryou growled, "because you guys did such a great job _last_ time."

"_You_ took it overboard, Ryou," Marik growled in response, yanking his arm in an uncomfortable position, causing the boy to yelp a little. "We're going to deal with this our way, in a confined environment, where you can't do shit all to hurt everyone else. Either of you."

Malik smiled a little at Bakura. "Don't worry, okay? We've got a plan."

* * *

The following days were a trial in themselves. Yuugi spent half the time yelping, and disappearing away from Bakura, whenever the moodiness got to be a bit dark, and the other half consoling the sobbing heap of white, when even the sun was too much for him. Yami idly thought, a few times, that blackmailing Bakura by filming all this would be extremely tempting, but the idea fled each time Yuugi scolded him. 

In the Ishtar household, tantrums and tears were also common, as Ryou slowly submitted to what he had done, and what he had caused. Stabilising him was a difficult task, in itself – even at the best of times, Ryou was somewhat sensitive – but Malik worked with dedicated patience to try and help his friend.

Marik, however, was non-too-pleased about their houseguest's behaviour. "Get him food," he grumbled, "grab him water, he needs a change of clothes! What am I? A Ra be damned servant boy?" The child of hatred growled in utter annoyance.

"MARIK! Ryou needs a blanket – it's getting cold!"

Marik simply snarled. "He can get the damned thing himself!"


End file.
